


The Sun Rising

by EndoratheWitch



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Brothers, Damsels in Distress, Elves, F/M, Goblins, Magic, Monsters, Paladins, Princesses, Sisters, strange horse, thieves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 23:56:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19936660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndoratheWitch/pseuds/EndoratheWitch
Summary: Dawn is rescued by a knight in shining armor





	The Sun Rising

**Author's Note:**

> Still have insomnia! Fun! :)  
> I promise this is the last new story idea for a while (even though I think I have a trillion) Gonna work on fleshing these out more and finishing a couple of others. Thank you all for being tolerant of me and my lack of control :)

The forest had grown darker. 

The trees seemed to gather closer as if they were trying to cut Bog off from escaping, trying to meld together so that each tree, each supposed path, looked the same as the other. He frowned behind his helmet’s visor. He could feel the change in the air; it had just grown cooler and quieter. Normally, the forest growing cooler and quieter would have been a normal occurrence since it was almost evening. But this was an unnatural chill, the sort of cold that settled on the skin like a layer of fine dust before slowly sinking in and settling into the bones. The quiet was the sort of absence of sound that one felt the moment after a death, a sudden absence of life, as if a light had been sucked from the world. That was what this felt like--death. 

Bog refrained from reaching for his sword, a long, heavy blade, a large enough weapon that it would be seen as a bastard sword, but for him, Bog used the blade like a one-handed sword. It rested in a special scabbard against his back until he needed it; he could draw the weapon with lightning speed, but there was no need to alert whatever was causing the miasma to wash over him. It had to be aware he had entered the wood. When the villagers had said a great evil had taken up residence in their woods, he hadn’t really believed them. Great evil had many times been simply a large wolf, an oversized bear, and once the great evil had been a small gang of young pixies who had thought it would be funny to terrify the human village. Nothing overly dangerous and nothing that required him to kill anything. In each case, Bog had either relocated the animal deeper into the woods, or in the case of the pixies, a few choice words, sharing of some pixie dandelion wine and a night of storytelling had been enough to send the group on their way. 

But this was different. 

Bog reached down and stroked Fearchara’s mane. “You all right girl?” he asked the horse. 

Fearchara whinnied. 

Bog frowned. He could feel his mount’s discomfort. 

They rode on for a few more paces when Bog saw it, movement from the corner of his eye, a shadow moving followed by the sound of a young woman’s terrified scream. 

Bog reacted without hesitation, pulling his weapon at the same time he slid off Fearchara’s back. His horse knew exactly how to react; took off, putting distance between herself and whatever it was her master was about to fight, but ready to return at his call. Bog held his weapon up with an easy grip in his gauntleted hand. The blade glowed, a bright, pure light of pale blue. The illumination washed over him, causing his armor to also glow for a moment before settling around him. His armor stopped glowing once the light settled over him, but the blade itself continued to shimmer with its soft blue radiance. 

The sound of the young woman’s scream echoed through the forest once more. Bog turned toward the sound just as a young elven woman came crashing out of the woods. 

She was beautiful--as only an elf could be--with long, flowing hair the color of gold. Her ears cut through the waterfall of gold in delicate points, while her porcelain perfect skin, large light blue eyes, and natural grace marked her as exceptional, even among her kind. She wore a thin circlet of gold on her forehead and a long, loose flowing gown of palest blue. Her gown was torn and she was bleeding, dark mud and blood marred her perfection, and Bog noted she was barefoot. She ran toward him. 

“Help me, please!!” The sweetness of her voice could not be hampered even by her terror. 

Bog caught her as she rushed toward him and nearly fell as she grasped at his armored torso. “Please, help me!” she pleaded again, her pale blue eyes filled with desperation. 

Bog hissed, his head snapping up from her when he saw a dark figure moving in the trees. “Get behind me--hide,” he ordered at the same time shoving the young elven woman behind him just as the dark figure stepped out of the shadow of the trees. 

The monster was large, far taller than Bog, and he stood well over six and a half feet. Its body was black, black like the darkness of a moonless sky, dark like the endless bottom of the ocean. The torso of the creature was hollow, the ribs looked more like a cage that contained a piece of faded grey light that pulsed like the beating of a heart. It’s arms were long, far longer in proportion than a human’s arms. The six fingers on its hands ended in long curved claws, but it was the face that was terrifying, for the monster’s face consisted of a human mask of bone. The eyes glowed with the same grey light behind the mask as the heart, but other than the eyes, the bone mask was an expressionless parody of a human face. Bog gripped his sword and his eyes narrowed behind his helm. 

The monster let out a roar made all the more terrifying since the sound was as if a hundred voices--not all of them human--were screaming at once behind a mouth that didn’t move. The creature rushed toward Bog. 

Bog brought his sword up, holding the blade up with both hands so that the long shining blade was practically laying along his biceps. His blue eyes behind his visor were cold and focused as he looked down his sword’s length at the creature and moved in a circle around the monster, keeping it in sight. The monster slashed at him, but Bog nimbly took a few steps back at the same time bringing his sword forward to block the long claws from scoring a hit against him. Bog was sure the creature was looking for weakness in Bog’s defenses that it could exploit; he was no unarmored elven maid. 

The creature hissed at him and lunged, extending its arms and slashing with its claws trying to slice into Bog. Bog danced back and to the side. He wasn’t scared; his armor was well-made and he trusted his own abilities. Bog swung his sword in tight strokes. The light from the blade lit up the monster, made it hiss in pain from the light. Bog blocked one of the monster’s clawed swipes wide, knocked the creature’s clawed hands out of the way, snapped his blade out at its neck. The creature danced back, avoiding the tip of the glowing blade by a finger’s width. Another swordsman might have tried to rush in and take several slashes at the monster’s arms or torso, but Bog was testing, watching, studying the monster’s movements and form before he committed to a full-on attack. 

The monster rushed him again, this time with more viciousness, as if it sensed that ending this conflict was in its best interest. 

Bog moved quickly, gliding to the side with the grace of a dancer; the heavy armor he wore did nothing to slow his pace as he swung his large sword as if it weighed little, the movement of his arms and legs practiced and precise. He stepped in and slashed at a downward angle just as the beast came in close enough, its long claws clashing against the glowing metal of his breastplate, the sound of its claws cutting against the metal rang through the forest. Bog did not react to the strike, he was trained too well; instead his weapon sliced through the monster’s left forearm, cleaving the arm off in one attack. 

The creature roared in agony. The sound echoed through the trees, the cry of many voices screaming at once as dark blood painted the ground. The monster twisted, taking a swipe at Bog with its other hand and caught him across his helmeted face. Bog stumbled, his helmet smashing into his cheek. He felt the metal cut into his skin, followed by the fresh, wet feel of blood, but he maintained his footing. He twisted his torso back around and brought his sword up, droplets of dark blood staining the bright blade, but his sword connected with nothing. 

Bog narrowed his eyes behind his visor as he saw the creature take off at a run into the trees, trailing dark blood behind it. Bog held his sword tightly, taking a step to give chase, then stopped. The monster was badly wounded, it wouldn’t get far with the blood it was losing. Bog looked down at the still twitching arm of the monster, the fingers of its severed limb flexed slowly as the life drained from it. Bog’s lips were set in a thin line, but his shoulders eased. There was a young elven woman in need of his help. He would get her to safety, then come back to hunt the beast and finish it before it could do more harm. 

Bog flicked his sword with one hand, flinging drops of dark blood off the bright blade before he slid it back into the scabbard on his back and turned to find the young elven woman standing among the trees watching him with wide eyes. Her hand rested on his horse, which was standing beside her. Her eyes were wide with fear and he could see her tremble, but she bravely stood still. Bog frowned. If he removed his helmet, he was sure her reaction to him would be the same as her reaction to the monster--horror. 

Bog’s voice was rough as he walked slowly toward her. “Are you unharmed? Did it hurt you?” 

The elven lady nodded. “Yes, just a few scratches, but nothing…” She took a breath to steady herself. “I was gathering wildflowers and herbs at the edge of the forest when…” She frowned, her lip trembling. “...it grabbed me. It came out of the shadows so quickly, I...” Her delicate lips trembled and tears began to fall down her pale cheeks. Bog’s frown deepened. He hated to see anyone cry, especially a young woman who was so clearly terrified, but trying her best to put on a brave face. 

“Does it have a cave? A ruin? Some place it was hiding?” Bog asked gruffly, flipping his visor up to glare at the elf, (the visor would show only his eyes, he figured that much was safe) at the same time he walked toward Fearchara. The horse huffed with concern and moved her head toward him, wanting her own reassurance that her master was well. The elf watched as the horse settled her head against the knight’s armored shoulder and leaned heavily into him for reassurance. Bog chuckled and rubbed her neck gently with his metal clad hands, glancing over at the elf. 

“Where are your people? Do they know yer missing?” Bog rubbed Fearchara’s nose before turning his full attention on the girl. 

The young woman gasped when she saw his eyes. Bog knew that his eyes were an unusual shade of blue that many people found startling. It was the only feature of himself he was willing to show anyone. While his eyes were unusual, they didn’t immediately point to his mixed heritage and while people often said that eyes were the windows to the soul, so far no one had run from seeing only his eyes. 

This close, Bog thought the elf looked very young, though it was hard to tell with an elf. They were all ageless. She still looked frightened and Bog knew he wasn't doing a very good job of making her feel at ease. He was well-trained for combat, but he wasn’t very good with people. He usually came into a village, found out whatever their problem was, took care of it, and left before anyone could see him or ask more about him. He would take some reward, food or drink for his travel, occasionally let them shoe his horse, but not often. Staying too close to anyone made keeping himself hidden more difficult. He preferred to come in, do the job and leave. 

But he couldn’t this time. He couldn’t leave this young woman alone in the woods. 

Bog sighed and tried speaking in a tone more soothing, bleeding the gruffness from his voice. “Let me try again,” he said more gently. “My name is Bog.” 

The young elven woman smiled, if only a faint curve of her soft lips. “My name is Dawn.” 

Bog nodded. “Dawn--that’s a pretty name.” 

Dawn smiled brighter. “Thank you, Sir Bog.” 

Bog shook his head. “It’s just Bog, Bog King.” 

Dawn tilted her head. “You have the name King? Are you royalty?” 

Bog snorted. “Hardly. Now, may I inspect your wounds?” 

Dawn smiled shyly and nodded. Bog walked carefully over to her, not touching her as he looked her over. She had quite a few cuts and scrapes, most likely from her flight through the forest, but there were three deep wounds on her arm that had turned slightly black at the edges. Bog reached for her slender arm, stopping with his armored fingers hovering hear her arm. 

“May I?” he asked gently. 

Dawn nodded. 

Bog took her arm gently, but Dawn winced. “Is this where the creature grabbed you?” he asked. 

Dawn nodded. “Yes.” 

He frowned behind his helmet. The wound was tainted, not bad yet, but left untreated the taint would spread, making the young woman ill. She might be able to fight it off on her own--elves being elves--but he could be certain and heal her. He sighed in frustration. 

He looked down at her. “Dawn. The wounds are infected with the creature’s taint. I can heal them, but I will have to remove my gauntlet to do so. I assure you I will do you no harm. Do you trust me?” He stared at her, his gaze intense behind his visor. 

Dawn looked up at him, her pretty elven face radiating innocence. “I trust you.” 

He nodded then made a soft click with his mouth. Fearchara stepped closer. Bog motioned with his head toward his horse, which moved to stand alongside Dawn. 

“Just put your face against Fearchara’s mane, hold her tight,” he told her. “It’ll help,” Bog added. 

“Is it going to hurt?” she asked, and he heard a little trickle of fear weave its way back into her voice. 

Bog frowned. He didn’t want the young elf to see his hands. He couldn’t hide them once he had removed his gauntlets. One look at his knotted, gnarled and clawed hands would reveal his nature and frighten her. 

“No, I just--I think Fearchara would appreciate the comfort,” Bog replied. 

His horse gave him an incredulous look, which prompted Bog to give his mount a narrow-eyed look. The horse huffed in response. Dawn reached out and stroked her fingers along the horse’s mane. 

“Your horse is beautiful,” Dawn said in a soft tone. 

Bog chuckled. “Don’t say it too much, she’ll become more vain and unbearable than she is now.” 

Dawn laughed continuing to stroke the horse’s mane before she stepped closer and pressed her face against the horse. Bog took this as a sign she was ready. He pulled the gauntlet off his right hand, flexing his clawed fingers before he laid his hand gently on Dawn’s arm, careful not to brush her skin with his claws. 

The young elven woman winced slightly at his touch, but thankfully she didn’t turn to look; she kept her face against his horse’s neck. Bog focused, praying silently. He felt the magic work through him, the warmth of the healing spell flowed through his body, through his hand, and into the wounds that scarred her delicate arm. 

Dawn hissed at the flare of heat, but almost instantly the heat turned into a warm and soothing glow. The wounds on her arm had been aching, a cold moving from the wounds through her limb and up toward her shoulder, but Bog’s healing spell banished the cold and replaced the ache and chill with calming, soothing warmth. It was enough of a relief that Dawn felt slightly dizzy. She leaned heavily against Fearchara as the magic faded. 

Bog slowly removed his hand to check her wound and smiled; it was completely healed, all signs of taint were gone. He turned around, putting his back to her so he could slip his gauntlet on before she had a chance to see his twisted, clawed hand. 

“There--better?” Bog turned back around to see Dawn smiling. 

“Thank you so much Bog.” Dawn surprised him by suddenly throwing her arms around him. He caught her, looking completely taken by surprise by the young elven woman. Bog glanced to his horse, who nodded her head at him. Bog rolled his eyes at his mount before returning his attention to the young elf. 

“You’re welcome Lady Dawn, but I should be getting you home to your family. I’m sure they are worried.” 

Dawn nodded. “Yes and my father the king will want to reward you.” 

Bog jerked in surprise. “King?” 

Dawn, her arms still around his waist nodded, her light blue eyes wide and innocent. “Yes my father is King Dagda of the Summer Kingdom.” 

Bog inhaled sharply behind his helmet. A king, an elven king, which made this maid a princess. Bog closed his eyes. He hated princesses. He had been lucky not to encounter many on his travels, but the few that he had encountered were less than...princess-like. But, he had to admit to himself that Dawn did not seem at all like the royalty he had unwillingly dealt with in the past. Bog sighed. “I’ll return you home, but first, I must pick up my traveling companions. I left them at the edge of the woods that way…” He pointed in the direction he had come into the forest. (He had left his companions at a small camp just at the edges of the forest to wait for him. He hadn’t expected to run into the monster that he had, but his companions would not have been a help to him regardless. If anything, their presence might have been a hindrance. He had tried many times during his travels to convince them all to go home, but the three of them stayed with him despite his growls and protests. Sunny, his half-brother he understood, but the other two? Bog growled deep in his chest in annoyance just thinking about the two of them.) 

Dawn nodded. “Of course, Sir Knight.” 

He sighed flicking his visor back down. “Please, just call me Bog.” 

* 

Bog swallowed, feeling awkward as he rode with Dawn sitting in front of him, his arms around her while let Fearchara carry them out of the woods. The elven princess leaned back against his armored chest, her hands on the saddle’s pommel, but she kept leaning into him looking up at him with an odd expression that Bog couldn’t quite read. He frowned behind his helmet. The princess was quite distracting. She was pretty, but it was her cheerful smile that she maintained despite what she had just endured that made him feel unnerved. He supposed it had to do with her being young. 

“Why don’t you take your helmet off?” Dawn turned to ask him. 

Bog grumbled. “Please stop twisting around so much, Princess. It makes it difficult to keep you balanced.” 

Dawn smiled at him. “Very well, but, aren’t you uncomfortable with the helmet on?” she asked, twisting around again to look at him. Bog sighed in frustration since she had clearly not listened to him and kept turning around. 

“I am fine with the helmet on. I’m accustomed to traveling with it on,” Bog replied, trying to ignore her. 

“Can you at least lift your visor again? Talking to your metal face is bizarre. I would like to be able to at least see your eyes when I’m speaking with you,” Dawn remarked primly. 

Bog grumbled. “You should be facing forward, not constantly turning around, Princess.” 

Dawn pouted, sticking her bottom lip out as she turned to look at him without saying a word. 

Bog glared at her from behind his visor before he finally sighed. “Fine.” 

He reached up and lifted the visor. 

Dawn beamed at him, her smile like a sunny day. “You have such beautiful eyes, Bog. So unusual. I’ve never seen an elf or human with eyes like that. My sister would like your eyes.” 

Bog groaned slightly. “You have a sister? There are two of you?” 

Dawn smiled. “There are! Marianne is the eldest, the one to take the throne.” She twisted a little more to look at him. “Doesn’t your hair get sweaty under the helmet? It’s much more--robust--than elven helms.” 

Bog grumbled under his breath. “It’s fine.” 

She tilted her head slightly, waiting, but Bog didn’t rise to the bait. His helmet would remain in place. Dawn frowned annoyed, turned back around to glare at the trail ahead of them. Now that she was out of danger, healed, and on her way home, her curiosity about her rescuer had increased. Why would he not remove his helmet, she wondered. She very much wanted to see what her rescuer looked like. She knew he had to be handsome--weren’t all dashing knights...dashing? Even if he were human, humans could be quite attractive. She had seen a few very handsome ones in court, though her father had forbidden her from talking or dancing with any of them. Which was a shame. 

Dawn chewed the side of her bottom lip, trying to imagine what the man behind her looked like. He had such startling blue eyes. She had not been simply flattering him when she said he had such gorgeous eyes, like nothing she had seen in a human or elf before, she hadn’t! Dawn glanced at his hands, covered by heavy metal gauntlets on the reins of the horse. Bog was also very tall and the fingers of his hands were extremely long, elegant she assumed by their length, as if he were meant to play an instrument. When he had laid his bare hand on her to heal her, Dawn had felt the rough calluses, but there was a gentleness, a softness to his touch. It was difficult to judge by the armor, but she suspected he was not like other knights she had seen, all muscles, such as Roland. 

Roland was an elven knight in her father’s court, handsome, and very focused on his body and appearance. Roland was currently courting her sister, much to Dawn’s dislike. She had liked him at first; she had even been in love with him for a short while. He was handsome, with beautiful golden hair and a nice, trim-muscled body, but after a short time, she had realized he was boring. All he cared about was shining his armor and being the best looking knight in his father’s realm. Roland cared about Roland’s personal glory and nothing more. Marianne had figured it out, almost too late. Her elder sister had fallen for Roland quickly. Roland had been everything any book had said a young elf maid wanted in a knight; that was until her sister had discovered that Roland was a lying, cheating, self-centered knave. Dawn smiled at the memory of her elder sister, in tears with a sword, chasing Roland through the halls. It had been so funny, even if the cause of it was tragic! Though Marianne had never been quite the same afterwards, her trust in love or that it could even be real had been turned sour by Roland and his betrayal. 

Dawn gave a mental shudder. There was no point ruining her perfectly dashing rescue by this knight named Bog by thinking about that cad, Roland. She just wished Roland would leave the court and leave her sister alone. Roland continued to pursue Marianne, and what was worse, Roland did so with their father’s blessing. Dawn frowned, but her frown soon turned into a smile. Maybe Bog would kick Roland’s backside and drive him from the Summerlands. Now that would be wonderful. Dawn would consent to be his wife--once Bog figured out that they were in love that is--and they would live happily ever after. Then maybe, once Marianne saw her little sister happily married and in love, she would open herself up once more to give love a chance? Dawn hoped so with all her heart. 

* 

The ride to Bog’s camp took well over an hour. By the time they arrived Dawn had fallen asleep against Bog’s chest. Night had fallen, but Bog could see a fire going at the spot he had left his companions. 

As Bog rode into the circle of firelight, he could see the goblin, Stuff, reminded Bog of a large potato, a short, plump and greenish-grey creature with frog-like features and her mate Thang, who looked to Bog like a frog that had grown arms and legs with big bulbous eyes and a mouth of crooked fanged teeth. Both goblins had large wedded ears and three fingered webbed hands. The duo were sitting by the campfire and the scent of rabbit stew drifted on the light evening breeze. The goblin couple followed Bog, calling themselves his squires. He called them nuisances. He had saved them from a group of hunters, humans, who had trapped the couple and were torturing the poor creatures for fun. Bog had freed them after being forced to fight the hunting group, killing all of them. He felt no remorse for their deaths, as he had been following signs of poachers, men who were killing woodland creatures for sport and profit. 

Bog frowned as he rode into the small camp, consisting of the campfire, with a cooking pot dangling over the fire from which the smells of stew drifted on the air, two tents and the hole that the goblins dug to sleep in at night, wrapped around each other in a tight knot every night. He didn’t see his half brother, Sulyen--or Sunny as he preferred to be called. The younger man was nowhere in sight. That always worried Bog because his little brother had an issue with taking things that didn’t belong to him. If Sunny wasn’t in sight, that meant he could have gone back to town… Bog cursed under his breath. Damn his little brother, but just as Bog began to worry that he would have to go and find him, Sunny, much shorter than Bog, with dark skin and long dark brown hair and a sunny face, came around from the other side of one of the tents pulling up his trousers. 

“Bog!! You’re back!!” Sunny called out and waved before his expression turned curious. “What have you got there?” 

Dawn murmured sleepily, not quite coming awake. 

Bog sighed. “The monster, it turned out, was real and not some simple beast. And it had a prisoner.” 

Sunny hurried closer as the goblins both jumped to their feet. “Master Bog!” 

Bog brought his horse to a stop and slid off easily, taking Dawn with him. She woke as his feet hit the ground, her arms rising to coil around his neck. “Are we there?” She looked up at him with adoring eyes. 

Bog sighed and quickly set her on her feet, disengaging himself from her grasp as gently as possible. “Aye we’re here,” he confirmed. “Princess Dawn of the Summerlands, this is my younger brother Sulyen…” 

Sunny grinned at her and Dawn blinked in surprise. The young man before her looked nothing like she imagined Bog to look underneath his armor. Sulyen was a great deal shorter than her, his head coming up to her chest, but his eyes were honey colored brown as was his skin, with freckles across his nose and cheeks. His hair was thick, long and silky looking in the campfire’s light, decorated with beads and held back by a bright, cheerful red cloth. His smile was nice, more than nice Dawn thought; Sulyen’s smile was beautiful. 

He bowed and took her hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss her knuckles. “Everyone calls me Sunny, my lady.” 

Dawn giggled softly. “A pleasure.” 

“The pleasure is all mine.” Sunny smiled at her and slowly released her hand, giving Dawn a little shiver of goosebumps up and down her spine. 

Thang and Stuff hurried forward, causing Dawn to jump in surprise. They were shorter than Sunny, only coming up her hip as they looked up at her with eager eyes. 

“Princess Dawn, these are my…” Bog sighed with exasperation at the eager faces of the goblins. He decided to be nice as he announced. “My squires, Thang and Stuff.” 

Stuff bowed and smiled, her large mouth making the expression take up her entire face. The goblin’s voice was surprisingly deep and rough. “It’s a pleasure Princess Dawn.” 

Thang bowed awkwardly, his voice softer. “It’s really nice to meet ye Princess Dawn. Yer my first princess!” 

Thang and Stuff exchanged happy looks with one another as Stuff asked. “Are you going to marry her, Master Bog? Doesn’t the knight marry the princess?” 

Stuff nodded her agreement. 

Bog growled. “I am not marrying anyone.” 

Dawn pouted. “But you rescued me.” 

Sunny was doing his best to hold back a laugh as Bog growled. “A rescue is not the basis of a marriage, Princess...I would have thought yer father would have taught you that.” He mumbled under his breath as he turned and stomped over to the fire to grab up the spoon that was leaned against the side of the iron pot over the fire. 

Dawn glared at Bog’s back. 

Sunny walked closer to stand beside her. “Don’t mind him, Bog’s always grumpy.” 

Dawn turned to look at Sunny. “You and your brother are, uh...quite different.” 

Sunny laughed. “Half-brother. Bog’s my half-brother, my father married his mother.” Sunny shrugged. “Bog’s a good man, a good paladin, despite his grumpy disposition.” 

Dawn turned eagerly to Sunny. “Paladin, hm?” Her eyebrows lifted in interest. “What does he look like under his armor? He wouldn’t take his helmet off at all.” 

Stuff grinned. “He is the most handsome of knights!” 

Thang nodded. “He is! Handsomer than all the knights!” 

Dawn looked intrigued, her attention turning back to Bog. 

Sunny frowned with a glance at his brother, then back to her. “You best just leave Bog alone though. He won’t remove his helmet for anyone, especially a stranger.” 

Dawn looked heartbroken, making Sunny frown even more. In a moment, he perked up as an idea came to him. “Why don’t you have some food and I’ll sing us a song? Then you can get some sleep before we take you home tomorrow.” 

Dawn smiled. “A song sounds nice.” 

Sunny bowed and put his hand out to her. Dawn smiled at him, placing her hand in his and allowed him to walk her toward the fire. 

Thang hurried past them with Stuff following him, the two of them gathering the wooden bowls and metal utensils from the packs the two of them carried. (Luckily they had two extra wooden bowls since Sunny had stolen a large set.) Stuff hurried off into the gathering darkness and returned a few seconds later with a log that she sat down near the fire. The goblin smiled at Dawn as she patted the log, indicating the princess was to sit there. Dawn watched as Bog filled the bowls with stew as Thang handed them to him, while Stuff passed them out. Bog filled his own bowl last before he stood and headed into the largest of the two tents. The rest of them took seats on the ground around the fire. 

Dawn watched the armored man go with a frown before she turned to Sunny. “He won’t eat with us?” 

Sunny shook his head. “He won’t eat in front of you.” 

“But why?” Dawn looked confused. 

Sunny frowned, sitting down beside Dawn. “Princess, it’s best to just leave Bog alone. He’ll join us when he’s done.” 

Dawn frowned looking at the tent once more before she dug into her stew, blinking in surprise. “Oh, this is actually good!” 

Thang grinned. “Did it myself!” 

Stuff smiled too. “I killed and skinned the rabbit!” 

Sunny laughed. “You’re both fantastic cooks.” 

Dawn giggled and ate, only glancing at Bog’s tent a handful of times. 

* 

Bog returned to sit outside by the fire with them, Dawn noted, still in full armor, and his helmet. Sunny had gone into the smaller tent to retrieve a small lute and began to play. 

When he sang a few moments later, Dawn blinked in surprise. Sunny’s voice was soft, sweet, and never had she heard such a voice before. 

“Merry it is while summer lasts with the song of birds; 

but now draws near the wind's blast and harsh weather. 

Alas, Alas! How long this night is! And I, most unjustly, 

sorrow and mourn and fast.” 

* 

But then Dawn jumped in surprise when Bog joined in, his voice behind his helmet sounded a little hollow, but the timbre of his voice had a deep, elegant flavor that Dawn found beautiful, his voice mixing well with his little brother’s. 

* 

“That summer is fun, when the birds are singing. Ah, 

but now the storm and the storm are coming! Ah, that 

this night is long, and I have only worry and sadness.” 

* 

After a few moments the two goblins joined in as well, their strange deeper voices mixing with Bog and Sunny’s creating some of the most beautiful music Dawn had ever heard. She smiled, growing sleepy as she listened to their nearly perfectly blended voices lulling her, calming her... 

* 

“It is funny during the summer time, when the birds 

to sing. Oh, now come storm and storm! Oh, 

This night is long and I have only worry and sadness.” 

* 

Bog moved quickly, despite his armor, to catch the princess before she fell over and off her log. He smiled slightly as he lifted her up delicately. 

Sunny stopped playing and motioned at his tent with his head. “She can have my tent. I’ll take first watch.” 

Bog frowned behind his helmet as he carried the elven princess to his brother’s tent, ducking low and gently setting her on the bedroll inside. 

When he came back out Stuff and Thang were curled inside their hole together. 

Bog flopped down beside his brother, crossing his legs. After a few seconds Bog reached up and removed his helmet. 

The fire’s light danced across his grey skin, the light brushed against the sharp point of his ears, the sharp angles of his cheeks and long chin and the leaf-like scales that made up his “hair.” Bog pulled his gauntlets off and flexed his clawed fingers before he brushed a hand over his head and massaged his scalp, stretching his jaw and showing his rows of fanged, crooked teeth before he twisted his neck, which cracked loudly. 

Sunny frowned at him. “You all right?” 

Bog nodded. “Aye. the monster didn’t leave a scratch on me, though it’s minus one limb.” He grinned at his brother. 

Sunny nodded with a smile, proud of his brother before he said in a quiet tone. “How are we going to return her without her father wanting to see your face when we get there? You can deny lords, and even dukes, but a king?” 

Bog shrugged. “I’m a paladin. He’ll understand that we live by different rules.” 

Sunny smirked, looking unconvinced. 

Bog sighed, looking tired as he glanced toward his little brother. “Ye sure about taking the first watch?” 

Sunny nodded. “Aye, you need a rest. Besides, you will want to be up before the princess. I suspect she’ll want to try and sneak a peek if yer asleep when she gets up.” 

Bog grunted and nodded. “For a princess who’s just gone through a terrible experience, she is feisty.” 

Sunny laughed. “I like her. She’s pretty and has a backbone. Not yer typical princess.” 

Bog wrinkled his nose at Sunny. “Maybe, but I don’t really like princesses.” 

Sunny smirked. “Bog, you don’t really like anyone.” 

Bog chuckled. “True, but I like you.” 

Sunny laughed in return. “You have to like me, I’m your brother.” 

Bog shook his head and stood as Sunny came over to help his brother remove his armor. “That’s not true. I don’t have to like you because yer my brother, but I do,” Bog said softly while Sunny helped with the straps to his breastplate. 

“Well, I like you too big brother. I love you as well.” Sunny set the armor aside, planning on cleaning it once Bog was asleep. 

“I love you too Sunny,” Bog said softly as he removed his vambraces and greaves. Sunny carefully laid out the epaulets, the gorget, and other necessary accoutrements of the paladin on the ground as Bog stretched his long arms over his head and yawned hard enough to crack his jaw. “Let Thang and Stuff sleep,” he said before he headed off to his tent. 

Sunny nodded. “Will do brother--sleep well.” 

Bog smiled and disappeared into his tent.


End file.
